Seeing bruises on my daughter all week, I walked into her room and found her shaking. “If I tell you, they’ll hurt you real bad,” she cried. “Tell me everything,” I begged. As she exposed the horrific weekend beatings and dark closet punishments by my in-laws, my heart shattered into ice. I stood up, locked the door, and whispered…

therapist. Dr. Chambers introduced her to a support group for child abuse survivors led by a remarkable woman named Miss Rodriguez.

Slowly, the darkness began to recede again. Emma’s artwork, which had devolved into chaotic, aggressive charcoal scribbles of locked doors and black basements, began to bloom with color. Sunflowers. Blue skies. Self-portraits continue reading …